Fourth of July Barbecue Slash Pool Party!
by SappyGemstone
Summary: The G8 nations get frisky at America's house! Mild yaoi, hunky nations, also bananas! Dedicated to a fan!


Hello, all, I've noticed that there's a particular reader of mine who is really rather upset at some of the mild yaoi I included in my story A Gift of the Heart. You are welcome to look up my story and check out their review. It's a beautiful bit of trolling that I can't help appreciating for its skill. This story is dedicated to them.

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America wiped the sweat from his brow as he surveyed the backyard he'd just finished prepping for his Fourth of July barbecue slash pool party.

"All done!" he said, slapping Tony on the back. "You sure you don't want to hang out with us, Tonyboy?"

The little grey shook his head and pointed at his XBox controller.

"Well, whatever, do what you want," America said. "I think I'll take a dip in the pool before anyone arrives." He set his glasses on the patio table and slowly removed his white t-shirt, revealing his sculpted abs, which stretched as he tossed the tee in a chair. He took a running jump at the pool and dived, his slim body cutting through the water. He surfaced, the water rolling in waves over his chest, and he shook out his sandy hair. He could see a blur standing in the frame of his double doors.

"Who's there?" he called. "I don't have my glasses on, so I can't see you."

"It's me." Germany stepped awkwardly onto the patio, holding a large, covered tray. He wore a long-sleeved, black swimming shirt that hugged close to his body and defined his physique. A tiny, tight blue Speedo finished the package and left nothing to the imagination. "I brought the bratwurst, as you asked. But you must be careful." He lifted the tray slightly. "They're salty."

"Leave the tray on the table and come in! The water's fine!"

Germany put down the tray, walked to the pool and dangled his feet in the water. "I don't know if I'll swim today. I have had a number of aches and pains lately and -"

"Come on, you stick in the mud, have some fun!" America grabbed Germany's taut legs and pulled him into the water. Germany surfaced and smoothed back his hair.

"That was uncalled for," he grumped.

"Loosen up, man!" America attacked, pulling up Germany's shirt and tickling his sides. Germany yelped, unable to stop giggling. He pushed America off and swam, America close in the chase.

As they struggled together in the water, England and Japan entered the backyard together, each shirtless and clothed in no-nonsense swimming trunks. England held a number of cucumbers aloft in a bag.

"I thought they'd be the best to bring," he said, squeezing one. "I found some good, long, firm ones. They'll be quite refreshing in this heat."

"A good idea," Japan said, nodding his head. "I myself have brought some ripe bananas. Not refreshing, but still something light and tasty."

"They _do_ look ripe," England said critically. "Are you sure they aren't overripe?"

"Oh no, I assure you they are perfect." Japan set the bunch down on the table, separated an individual from its brothers, and carefully pulled the skin from the soft, smooth fruit. He held the banana to England's mouth. "Take a bite."

England took a delicate nip, rolling the fruit around on his tongue.

"Yes, you're right. They're perfect." He placed a hand on Japan's and finished the fruit in a few more bites. "Jus' righ'," he said, his mouth full. Japan nodded, pleased.

"Bon jour, mon ami, I am here!" France waltzed onto the patio, separating England and Japan and walking through them. He tossed his hair over his shoulder and rolled his rippling, bare shoulders, then snapped the edges of his red Speedo against his tight, rounded bum. Germany stopped struggling with America, pushing America's head under the water, and swam to the edge of the pool.

"You were supposed to bring something," Germany said, lifting himself out of the water. "Not just stand around flashing your arse like a peacock."

"Oh, but why do you think so little of me, my friend?" France threw his arms around the sopping shoulders of Germany, stroking the stern nation's chest. A number of white clad chefs appeared at the door, carrying trays of cupcakes topped with tiny, spun sugar Eiffel Towers. As one, the chefs placed the trays on the almost overfull patio table, bowed, and left. France stood, sauntered to the table, grabbed a couple of cupcakes and sat next to Germany.

"Voila! Very delicious to be sure." He held out a cupcake to Germany.

"I'm not sure I want sweets right now," Germany grumped, crossing his arms.

"Come now, don't be such a spoiled sport." He shoved the cupcake in Germany's face. "Look at the tiny tower. Take a bite! Just the tip, mon cher."

America swam up to the nations and squinted at the cupcake. "The Eiffel tower? Hey, frenchy, it's the Fourth of July, not France day!"

"All occasions should be celebrated with fine French architecture," France sniffed.

"CUPCAKES!" Italy dashed through the doors, past England and Japan and the table filled with cakes, scooped the cupcakes from France's hands and stuffed them in his mouth. He wiggled is tiny butt with glee, clad only in a green Speedo.

"You stole my cakes!" France placed the back of his hand against his forehead.

"I had to confiscate them!" Italy said through a full mouth. "Germany would never properly appreciate them."

"You have a point," France said thoughtfully.

"Hey!" Germany pushed France into the water. The Gaul surfaced, gasping for breath.

"Oh, America, I knew it was your day, so I brought a very special treat!" Italy ran into the house.

"Pasta," the other nations said as one.

"PASTAAAAAAAA!" Italy ran back onto the patio, carrying a large serving dish of spaghetti and plunking it on the table.

Just then, Canada peeked around the door and waved. "I'm here," he whispered, sidling through the door, his lean body resembling that of his brother. He carried a bowl, which he held close to his chest. "I brought potato salad."

"Potato salad isn't at all suggestive," England muttered.

"Neither is pasta," Japan countered. "But it fits with the personalities. Canada is bland like mayonnaise and potatoes, see?"

"Ah, of course."

Canada's eyes grew wide. He dropped his bowl on the table, marched up to Japan, and poked a finger into his bare chest. "I am not bland!" he whisper-yelled. "I can take you in a fight any day!"

"You dishonor me Canada. Challenge accepted!" Japan hugged Canada close and wrestled him toward the water. Canada recovered at the edge, wrapping his arms around Japan's waist and lifting the Asian nation. The both tipped and fell into the pool with a splash. The other nations laughed as Canada and Japan fought with each other, jumping on one another and rolling around together in the water.

The laughter petered out as a cool wind whipped through the backyard. Russia stood in the doorway, fully dressed, his long brown overcoat brushing the patio, the ends of his scarf lifting in the breeze.

"I have brought caviar." He removed a few cans from his pockets and tossed them on the table. "Both red and black. Enjoy."

"And I thought my bratwurst was salty," Germany muttered.

America pulled himself out of the pool and marched over to Russia, water coursing over his lean form.

"Hey Russia, this is a POOL party. That requires you to be dressed for swimming."

"I do not like to swim," Russia said with a shrug. "It is not a favorite activity."

America stared Russia down as a silence descended over the nations.

"Get 'em," America said quietly. The nations attacked, Canada and Japan flying out of the pool, France and Germany leaping up from where they sat, Italy and England leaving the table, all descending upon Russia. They ripped him out of his overcoat, pulled off the scarf. Germany carefully unbuttoned his shirt as England and Japan took care to unbuckle and pull down his trousers. Italy took one foot, then the other, and removed his shoes and socks as Germany pulled roughly on the shirtsleeves, leaving Russia's chest bare. Russia struggled with the nations, pushing and pulling as they removed his clothes, but to no avail. Clothes were scattered across the patio. Finally, with one last tug on the trousers, Russia was left in his boxers. The nations pushed, and Russia fell into the water with a mighty splash that soaked the other nations. Russia surfaced, shaking the water from him like a husky dog. The nations laughed.

Tony walked up to America and pulled on his arm, motioning to the laughing nations and shrugging.

"What's he saying?" England said, pointing to America.

"Oh, he wants to know if I think we're acting a little gay," America said with a shrug.

"Acting? I thought it was the point of the party," France said, confused. The other nations went quiet.

"What, you mean like, bow chicka wowow?" America rolled his hips. "Well, it wasn't actually part of the plan...but hey, plans change, right? Anyone else in?"

"Okay!"

"Sure, why not."

"IN!"

"Only if HE and I don't pair up. You know who you are."

"I have nothing else to do today I guess."

"You have made me wet. There is no going back."

"Only with proposals of marriage, the terms of which can be discussed later!"

"Alright!" said America.

And they all had sex. Mostly oral.

It was the best Fourth of July barbecue slash pool party ever.


End file.
